


your lips a string quartet

by cherrydior



Series: the greatest city in the world [2]
Category: Neo Yokio
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sharing a Bed, Shopping, anyway there’s no tag for him so, i really don’t know how to tag this my dudes, the sales clerk’s in there too a bit but we don’t know if he’s actually called herbert do we?, which kind of goes without saying i mean this IS a neo yokio fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 07:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18310979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrydior/pseuds/cherrydior
Summary: Eventually, though, they do need to rejoin society — Arcangelo can’t very well make new podcast episodes or vlogs live from Kaz’s bedroom, there’s only so many times Kaz can send Aunt Agatha’s calls directly to voicemail before she breaks the door down, and, most pressingly, they haven’t been shopping in nearly aweek.





	your lips a string quartet

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is rapidly becoming a miniseries. Whoops. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> Shoutout to my pal V who was kind enough to put up with my nonsense while writing this, and who was the first to see the finished draft. Love you, and love everyone else who’s seen this in various states of unfinished and unedited!

It is springtime in Neo Yokio, and life is a swirling maelstrom of emotional confusion. It’s also the happiest Kaz Kaan has felt in quite some time.

(Okay, strictly speaking, it isn’t spring just yet, but as far as Kaz is concerned, Fashion Week marks the point where one can safely begin integrating pastels back into one’s wardrobe. It may still be too cold in February to go without a coat, but at least he can wear a candy-colored cashmere sweater underneath it if he so chooses, and that, he feels, is the true meaning of springtime. But he digresses.)

It’s been a few weeks since Kaz and Arcangelo started sort-of dating, and it’s going… surprisingly well. Possibly _too_ well. Not that anyone aside from Lexy and Gottlieb (and Sadie, who probably would’ve found out somehow even if Charles hadn’t been involved in sneaking them around) knows they’re together yet, largely because Kaz is expecting this relationship to blow up spectacularly any day now. Sure, Arcangelo’s been nothing if not sweet and attentive so far — and Kaz has to say, he can kind of see why he continuously tops the bachelor board if he treats everyone he dates this well — but he’s still half-expecting him to say this was all some weird prank and of _course_ he doesn’t _actually_ want to date Kaz, who would?

“Babe,” Arcangelo murmurs into Kaz’s shoulder, “go back to sleep, I can hear you overthinking. ‘S too early.”

He rolls over and snuggles up to the other man in acquiescence. It really is too early to be awake, and honestly, even if it does turn out to be part of some shitty plot, he’d rather spend the day in bed with Arcangelo than deal with the rest of the world.

Even if it isn’t real, at least Arcangelo acts like he cares about Kaz’s happiness and general well-being. That’s more than Kaz can say about most people he knows.

 

Eventually, though, they do need to rejoin society — Arcangelo can’t very well make new podcast episodes or vlogs live from Kaz’s bedroom, there’s only so many times Kaz can send Aunt Agatha’s calls directly to voicemail before she breaks the door down, and, most pressingly, they haven’t been shopping in nearly a _week_.

“Hey.”

Arcangelo mumbles something and buries his face in Kaz’s neck.

“Okay, no, stop that. We agreed we were going to go outside today, remember?”

“Nope. Doesn’t sound like me. Must’ve been your other incredibly handsome Ichiban boyfriend.”

“You realize that everyone’s going to think we’ve finally killed each other, right?” Kaz points out. “When’s the last time anyone saw you? Besides me and Charles?”

Arcangelo is silent for a long moment, before venturing a hesitant guess. “Maybe Tuesday?”

“It’s Friday.”

“Noooooo, don’t tell me that!” he whines, pulling a pillow over his head. “How am I supposed to come up with a podcast topic for this week that isn’t how cute you are when you come? That’s literally all I care about right now.”

“Okay, even if we were openly dating, you would _still_ not be allowed to spend forty minutes waxing poetic about our sex life to millions of strangers, just for the record.”

“I know for a fact you don’t listen to my podcast,” Arcangelo points out, his voice slightly muffled. “I could’ve been doing nothing but reciting treatises on how spectacular your ass is for the past three years, for all you know.”

“Maybe, but I feel like I’d get more guys hitting on me if that were the case,” Kaz says thoughtfully. 

“I’ve warned them all off,” he replies playfully, abandoning the pillow and rolling on top of him. “You deserve nothing but the best, and the best is, obviously, me. No one else is allowed to have you.”

Kaz rolls his eyes. “Yes, you’re very intimidating, Arcangelo. Get _up_ , I have clothes to buy.”

Arcangelo sighs in a long-suffering manner, but rolls off obligingly. “You know, they have this thing called online shopping, you might have heard of it?”

“Ugh, don’t even talk to me about _online shopping_ ,” Kaz complains, slipping on a pair of boxer briefs on his way to his walk-in closet. “The whole _point_ of shopping is the experience of picking things out yourself, of casually browsing and trying things on and finding that perfect item that sparks joy in your heart! You can’t get that by scrolling through a website, and that is the hill I will die on.” He frowns at his wardrobe for a moment, and sighs. “ _God_ , I need new clothes. This is all so last season.”

“To be fair,” Arcangelo points out from the bed, making precisely no attempt to dress himself, “it’s barely spring. I haven’t even switched from jewel tones to pastels yet.”

“Which tells me that we _both_ need to go shopping, immediately, if not sooner,” Kaz says reasonably, assessing his clothes with a critical eye. He eventually selects a pair of Ralph khakis and a button-down shirt, and a v-neck cashmere sweater that he’s stolen from Arcangelo. He frowns as he comes back out and sees Arcangelo still hasn’t moved. “Come on, fashion waits for no man. Do you _want_ to be stuck shopping at… I don’t know, where do herbs shop? Macy’s? Because all the good spring pieces are going to be out of stock if you don’t get buying soon.”

“Bold of you to assume I haven’t had my new signature items on pre-order since the spring collection previews,” he says, amused. “I see your point, though. There are a few Balmain pieces I’m considering for this season. Gucci’s mostly appalling again — I don’t care what anyone says, bellbottom trousers were never cool and should never come back — but it’s not all terrible, I might still get a few things...”

Kaz shrugs. “There’s always Versace.”

“But just buying the same four brands I always do feels a bit safe, though, d’you know what I mean?” Arcangelo asks, wrinkling his nose delicately. “I want to shake things up this season, take some risks, be more fashion-forward. I don’t want to get stuck in a rut and end up like one of those tragic old ladies walking through Central Park in Burberry tartan, you know?”

“Honestly, I don’t see any of your brands becoming sad old lady territory anytime soon. Anyway, you want to make sure you’re wearing the clothes rather than them wearing you, right? Like, don’t try too hard to break the mold just for the sake of it.”

“I’m not worried about that. No outfit has ever gotten the better of Arcangelo Theodore Corelli, and none ever will. I could go outside naked and single-handedly put the fashion industry out of business,” he says with a dismissive shrug. 

Kaz raises an eyebrow. “Or you’ll spark a sudden craze for aggressively modest clothing because it’ll be obvious that no one could possibly look as good as you.”

Arcangelo raises a hand to his heart and beams. “Aww, Kaz, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“What? It’s true, you’re objectively like… thirteen out of ten, and you know it,” he says before throwing the sweater at his head. “Now, get dressed, let’s _go_.”

 

If there’s one place in Neo Yokio where Kaz Kaan feels completely at home, it’s in the hallowed halls of high fashion known as Bergdorf Goodman’s men’s department. He could easily spend hours comparing fabrics, debating the merits of different collections, and purchasing the city’s most coveted designer goods — but _only_ those that meet his exceedingly high personal standards.

He closes his eyes, inhales the faint scents of expensive cologne and new clothes, and sighs happily. “Why does anyone ever leave this place?”

“Because it closes at eight,” Arcangelo says, in the voice of someone who has lamented that very thing repeatedly and at great length, casually draping himself over Kaz and resting his chin on Kaz’s head.

Kaz glances up at him, and drawls, “Can I help you?”

“Well, if you’re offering…” Arcangelo says wryly, burying his face in Kaz’s hair, and murmurs in an undertone. “God, you smell amazing. I love the products you use.”

Kaz feels his face heat up, and he’s about to point out that they’re in public, actually, but someone else beats him to the punch.

“Mr. Corelli!” An obnoxiously cheerful accented voice exclaims, and Arcangelo jumps back. “And Mr. Kaan, how wonderful! What brings Neo Yokio’s two most eligible bachelors in today?”

“Uh…” Arcangelo manages in a strangled voice. 

“Shopping, obviously,” Kaz says, seizing the conversational reins. “New season, new me, and all that.”

“But of course, Mr. Kaan. You know where the Ralph lives… or were you thinking of branching out?”

Arcangelo perks up at this. “Kaz! You should totally let me style you, that’s a brilliant idea!”

Kaz glances over at the nearby Balmain display and looks at Arcangelo dubiously. “It is?”

“Obviously I’m not putting you in Balmain, I think the spring collection might be a bit much for your personal brand to handle — although I do want these jeans, if you’ll start a dressing room for us, sales clerk — but I think you could do with some trousers that are more fitted, at least? The entirety of Neo Yokio would thank me for getting you into… hmm, maybe these Kiton chinos. I think we’re about the same size in pants, except I’m taller, right? And I really love this sweater for you —”

“What’s wrong with my pants?” 

Arcangelo stops throwing clothes at the sales clerk to turn and look at Kaz. “Kaz, homie, babe, you have the best ass I’ve ever seen, and hiding it under relaxed fit Ralph is a crime against humanity.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Ralph Lauren!”

“In theory? Of course not, but put you in a good pair of skinny fit trousers and you might be able to unseat me as Ichiban. Am I right, sales clerk?”

The sales clerk — Horace or whatever his name is — clears his throat. “Um. Mr. Corelli, sir. Saint Laurent has some very nice skinny jeans in this season?”

“See? Go ahead and add some to the pile, sales clerk, maybe in a dark wash if you can find some? Oh, and these too!”

“What are you up to?” Kaz asks him in a low tone while the sales clerk’s dropping off their clothes in the dressing room.

“Nothing bad, I promise,” Arcangelo replies sweetly. “You’re beautiful and I adore you. I just thought it might be fun to get you to try something different?”

Kaz scoffs. “I’m dating you, aren’t I? That’s pretty different.”

“Exactly!” he exclaims in an undertone. “If and when we decide to go public with —”

“Pardon the interruption, sirs, but if there’s nothing else you’d like to try on, your dressing room is ready?”

Arcangelo pauses, then slowly smiles. “It’s a great rebranding opportunity, is all I’m saying. Just… try to keep an open mind?”

 

Kaz whistles lowly, eyeing Arcangelo. “That’s. Yeah, that’s definitely a look. With boots?”

Arcangelo turns to admire the fit of the black Balmain biker jeans he’s trying on in the mirror, grinning. “Possibly even a leather jacket. _Very_ nice. I’m definitely buying these. I may even wear them out.”

“Those jeans are false advertising, they make you look like you’re actually cool. I feel like you should be on a motorcycle or something,” Kaz comments, his thoughts drifting towards fantasies of Arcangelo on a motorcycle. “Actually…”

“Implying I don’t have a motorcycle?” he replies archly, then lowers his voice. “Why, do you want to go for a ride, babe?”

He’s about to respond when the innuendo hits him, and he narrows his eyes. “Okay, that was awful, even for you.”

“I’m not wrong, though,” Arcangelo points out, then shakes his head. “But you’re trying to distract me, and it’s not going to work. Your turn for new clothes. Let’s do… those Kiton trousers first, I think.”

“Just throw me in the deep end, that’s fine,” Kaz mutters, stepping out of his Ralph khakis. 

“Both of our usual brands are questionable this season. If you can’t try new things now, when can you?” Arcangelo points out reasonably. 

“I’ll boycott,” he says dryly, pulling up the new trousers. “I’ll just spend all of spring and most of summer in bed and refuse to come out until they bring out the fall collections.”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t be too opposed to that alternative, as long as I can join you,” he says affectionately, assessing the fit of the trousers. “Oh, those are nice. Those, with… that blue sweater, over a button up, with the sleeves rolled up a few inches? How do you feel about a patterned dress shirt?”

Kaz considers this, turning this way and that in the mirror. The pants are tighter than he’s used to, but they don’t seem like they’d be too restrictive? “Maybe. I mean, these don’t look bad. I could wear this.”

“And maybe… hmm. We’ll get a few different colors, some pretty floral shirts because it’s springtime and we can…” Arcangelo muses as he sorts through the pile of clothing. “Would you be opposed to a suit that’s a color or is patterned? Because I saw some gorgeous suits from Dolce & Gabbana in the spring GQ, and I think you could totally pull them off.”

“Are we buying me a whole wardrobe today?” Kaz asks, frowning at his watch. “Because I don’t think we have time for that.”

“Probably not, no,” he sighs regretfully. “I’d love to get you in some teal, though, or maybe mint green? No, a burgundy suit —”

“Ange.”

“Right. Focus.” He exhales slowly, contemplating the pile. “Do you own jeans?”

Kaz thinks for a moment. “I don’t… think so?”

Arcangelo hands him one of the pairs of skinny jeans. “You’re going to.”

“Do I have to?” he grumbles, already unbuttoning his trousers. 

“You have to. This isn’t a hundred years ago, rich people are allowed to wear denim. And, if these look as good on you as I think they will, you probably shouldn’t be allowed to wear anything else.”

Kaz makes a face at him but obliges him with only token complaints, pulling up the jeans with a few undignified hops. He tucks in the front of his shirt, and spreads his arms. “Thoughts?”

Arcangelo blinks. Looks him up and down. Blinks some more. Exhales slowly, and gestures for Kaz to turn around. 

“That good, or that bad?” Kaz asks, frowning slightly as he turns slowly.

“Yeah,” he says faintly, eyes wide. 

“The French tuck’s too much, isn’t it? I don’t know, I know it’s a thing, but I usually wear a blazer and —”

Arcangelo takes a step forward, backing Kaz towards the mirror, and kisses him instead of a more verbal response. Kaz wraps his arms around him and kisses him back, sagging bonelessly against the wall. Yeah, he could definitely get used to this. He might even consider wearing jeans once in a while if this is the reaction he gets. 

(A tiny voice in the back of his mind asks how he’s going to go back to shopping by himself after experiencing _this_. He politely tells it to return to the Pink Space from whence it came.)

(Wait.)

( _Shopping_.)

Kaz pulls away abruptly. “We’re in public!” he exclaims in a hushed voice. “We can’t do this here, what if someone hears us?”

Arcangelo shakes his head, looking slightly dazed, before grinning seductively at him. “You’d better stay quiet, then,” he murmurs before dropping to his knees.

He stares at him, eyes wide. Arcangelo can’t seriously intend to…? But his eyes, dark and half-lidded, as well as his hands unbuttoning the jeans, suggest that he does, in fact, intend to. “I thought the idea was to put clothes _on_ me,” Kaz says pointedly. 

“I can multitask,” he replies absently, unbuttoning Kaz’s shirt. “You look phenomenal, oh my god, you’re absolutely getting this outfit. I’ll try to be careful with it, but I _have_ to.”

“You —” But Kaz never gets a chance to finish his sentence, because Arcangelo’s _mouth_ is on his _cock_ and _okay this is a thing that’s happening_. He closes his eyes, biting back a moan. This is such a bad idea, he just knows they’re going to get caught… 

But if Arcangelo keeps doing that thing with his tongue, Kaz thinks it might almost be worth it.

Of course, just as he thinks this, Arcangelo pulls off and buries his face in Kaz’s thigh, murmuring, “Anytime you want, by the way.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Try harder, then.” 

“If you insist,” he says easily, making eye contact as he teasingly kisses the tip of his cock. “Am I gonna have to tie my hair back?”

Kaz blinks slowly, brows furrowed, then remembers that oh, right, Arcangelo has a hair thing. He huffs out a laugh and tangles a hand in his cornsilk hair. “Better?” he asks, amused.

Rather than reply, Arcangelo simply grins up at him, mischief sparking in his eyes, and licks his way up the underside of his cock. Kaz inhales sharply, hand involuntarily tightening in Arcangelo’s hair, resulting in a soft, low moan. 

There’s a soft thud outside the changing rooms, but Kaz can barely bother to notice the sound, let alone care. He has the vague feeling like it might be important, but on the other hand, Arcangelo Corelli is tonguing the head of his dick and — he inhales sharply, eyes fluttering shut — _shoving his own hand down his trousers_ , holy _fuck_. 

“Oh my god,” Kaz breathes as he watches him take his dick deep into his mouth, “you’re gonna kill me, please, just _get on with it_ —”

He looks up at Kaz and does _something_ , a twist of his hand _just so_ as he swallows, and Kaz’s free hand flies up to muffle the sounds threatening to spill from his mouth as he comes.

Arcangelo slowly pulls off and beams up at him, licking his lips. “I could do that for hours, I really could,” he says, somewhat hoarsely. “Alright, babe?

Kaz closes his eyes, leaning heavily against the mirror. “I can’t feel my legs,” he says breathlessly, unable to keep a grin off his face. “Give me a minute.”

He laughs, pressing a soft kiss to Kaz’s hip. “Love you too,” Arcangelo murmurs before reluctantly getting up. He glances at his reflection, winces, and runs a hand through his hair, trying to make himself look somewhat more presentable.

“Nope,” Kaz says airily, sinking to the floor. “Not going anywhere. I live here now.”

There’s a few moments of rustling, then he hears Arcangelo’s voice say, “I’ll be right back, yeah? Try not to miss me too much.” 

He hums a vague assent, turning to rest his face against the cold surface of the mirror. _Fuck_. This whole dating Arcangelo thing is going to absolutely ruin him for anyone else, he thinks as he slowly blinks and glances around the dressing room —

Oh, _right_. Kaz sits up abruptly, listening intently to his surroundings. He can sort of hear Arcangelo chatting amiably with the sales clerk for some reason, but he doesn’t hear any sounds he’d associate with someone trying things on, so he thinks they might have actually gotten away with this. Amazing. 

He slowly gets to his feet and evaluates his appearance in the mirror. God, but he looks like he just had some spectacular sex. Which, well, he supposes he _did_ , but he definitely does not want to look like it. A critical inspection of the clothes he’s wearing confirms that at least they managed to keep everything relatively contained, and it’s with no small measure of relief that he gingerly puts the jeans back on their hanger and climbs back into his khakis. By the time Arcangelo returns, he’s back in the clothes he walked in wearing, and looks at least halfway like someone who can go out in public without raising suspicion.

“I didn’t see anyone around besides the sales clerk, I think we Gucci,” Arcangelo says, breezing back into the dressing room. “I told him to just make sure all this stuff follows us home, I couldn’t be bothered packaging it myself and I wasn’t sure what state you’d be in, you know?”

Kaz blinks. “I was not aware they had my card on file.”

Arcangelo waves that off. “Nah, I got it. No worries.”

“You…” Kaz squints at him in silence for a moment, then shakes his head. Whatever. If Arcangelo wants to buy him tens of thousands of dollars worth of clothes, he’s not going to argue. Honestly, it’s only fair; he’s the one who wanted Kaz to wear more fitted clothes, he _should_ be the one to pay for it. “D’you want to go get dinner?” he eventually asks instead.

Arcangelo thinks about it for a moment. “Sushi okay with you? Because I’ve been dying to try Shuko’s new tasting menu, their winter kaiseki was fucking phenomenal.”

He considers this, looking at his watch. “I’m willing to brave the undoubtedly horrendous bubble traffic if you are.”

“Fuck yes, I am. Have you been? I did the beverage pairings last time, but they have this really amazing sake, I might just order a bottle of that if you want to split it with me?” 

Arcangelo keeps up a steady stream of chatter as they exit the changing room, and Kaz gazes up at him as he talks, a fond look on his face.

It is springtime in Neo Yokio, and Kaz is beginning to think he might be in danger of falling in love.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) While obviously I don’t share all opinions of the characters I write, I wholeheartedly agree with Kaz’s mini-rant about online shopping. Fuck online shopping.
> 
> 2) Yes, Gucci really is out here putting out bellbottom trousers. Let the seventies stay dead, please. 
> 
> 3) Honestly, I think Arcangelo could pull off a little bit of edge in his look. It’s the long hair, and the Grand Prix outfit, probably. Give him something cool in season two, please?
> 
> 4) For the record, the noise Kaz sort of heard was Herbie dropping his phone. There’s a whole Thing with him in the background which neither Arcangelo or Kaz notice or give a shit about because sales clerk.
> 
> 5) Shuko’s a real place in New York. The seasonal sushi kaiseki tasting menu is $225 per person, the accompanying beverage pairing is an additional $175, or you can buy a bottle of sake for up to like $2k.


End file.
